


When You're Hungry For A Hero

by Yahtzee



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: Espionage, F/M, First Kiss, Jealousy, Requited Unrequited Love, Singapore, Slow Dancing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If anyone's going to overcome cultural prejudice against women of size in order to belatedly recognize Susan's inherent value as an agent and as a woman, it is by God going to be me!" </p>
<p>Bradley Fine makes his move at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since the Reyna Boyanov mission, Bradley Fine had found himself doing something he'd rarely done before: Doubting himself.

He'd been so sure that going triple agent was the only way to do this thing. Fine alone could face the danger; he alone could keep his cool during the complex set of deceptions necessary to get closer to Reyna and, by extension, the bomb. Only he could make such passionate love to Reyna as to confuse her mind and weaken her defenses—

Except Susan had deceived Reyna without a hitch. Without a complicated cover. Without having sex with Reyna even once.

(At least, he _thought_ they hadn't had sex. Fine wasn't one hundred percent sure, and didn't intend to ask.)

So all his lies—feigning his own murder, going rogue, remaining silent while he was legally declared dead, giving up the lease on a New York apartment with an actual view of Central Park, like, a _really good_ one in the West Eighties with an eat-in kitchen—had been for nothing.

Meanwhile, Susan Cooper had marched in, thought fast, improvised in the moment and saved Fine's ass.

Also saved the world. Couldn't forget that.

Fine's ego was a vibrant, healthy thing, undented by Susan's achievements. He felt a genuine glow of pride that she was now out in the field where she obviously belonged. What nagged at him was not her success, but his failure—on many levels.

"What did I miss?" he mused as he walked through the crowded, narrow cobblestone streets of Barcelona's Barri Gótic, three people behind the man he'd come here to tail. "Why didn't I realize Reyna was being played for a fool?"

" _You mean, by someone else_ ," said the voice in his earpiece. " _Because obviously you meant to play her for a fool yourself_ —"

"Yes, thank you, Nancy." Fine was still adjusting to the new voice in his ear. "I ought to have realized the scenario was too simple."

To him the arms deal had seemed complex: games within games, wheels within wheels. This had blinded him to the fact that, for Reyna, the sale of the nuke had appeared to be no more complicated or dangerous than delivering a pizza. It was a finer analytical point, the kind of thing that was all too easy to lose track of in the heat of field work…

…which was why analysts stayed with you, whispering in your ear throughout missions. To think that extra step ahead.

In other words, if he'd let Susan save him to begin with, she wouldn't have had to risk her own life to save him far more dramatically at the end.

" _All's well that ends well with Reyna_ ," Nancy said briskly, " _so let's not worry about that any longer, shall we? Incidentally, you've two gunmen coming up behind you on the right_."

Fine cocked his head, picked up the sounds of the footsteps, and ducked the moment before the first shot rang out. As people began to scream, he shoved himself backward into one gunman, tossed the guy over his shoulder, and had his own gun in hand by the time he saw the second attacker. The guy's eyes widened—he'd counted on surprising his target—so Fine had plenty of time to fire.

" _Sounds rather bangy on your end_!" Nancy said.

"Killed that one. Sorry. I know it's a mess to clean up." Fine settled for knocking the other one out before getting to his feet and dashing away. By now his target would have fled; he'd have to pick up the trail again later. Damn.

" _Oh, don't bother about the blood and, you know, brain matter and what-not. What else are consulates for? I'll give them a ring straightaway_."

"You know, we could use another agent on the ground here," Fine said as he straightened his tie in the semi-opaque reflection offered by a passing shop window. No blood flecks had stained the cuffs of his Brooks Brothers shirt: excellent. "I'm made now—won't be able to go undercover as well. So we'll need another set of eyes. A second gun."

" _Really_?"

Nancy sounded surprised—as well she might. Fine knew he had a reputation as a bit of a lone wolf. A maverick. A rogue. He liked this reputation. But just because he knew how to handle a situation alone didn't mean he couldn't work in a team. "For the good of the mission. You know."

" _Right, then. I'll put through your request. Anyone in particular you'd rather work with_?"

If there was one thing Fine knew how to do surpassingly well, it was "sounding casual." (Well, really, there were many things he knew how to do surpassingly well, from infiltrating the Yazuka to cunnilingus, but that was beside the point at present.) So he did sound casual, maddeningly so, as if he were browsing a mundane wine list, when he said, "Where's Susan Cooper these days?"

Good. That would seem as if she were merely another agent who had come to mind—a good one, someone he trusted to work by his side. It would not at all sound as if Fine was worried about how it would go when he and Susan finally saw each other again.

_I love him,_ she'd said, as if it were the saddest, most obvious thing in the world. As though it were completely pathetic, and surely Reyna had believed it was. Most people in the world would. Fine was uncomfortably aware that, if he'd been observing the same situation with two other similar people, he might've thought her pathetic too.

But he hadn't.

Instead Fine had found himself surprisingly moved. It wasn't that he'd ever harbored romantic feelings for Susan, or that he hadn't suspected she had a bit of a crush on him. However, to him, she'd primarily been a hyper-efficient, all-knowing voice—a cross between Siri and Wikipedia—and he'd assumed he was similarly impersonal to her. A vague, distant, glamorous presence in the world of espionage. Like a poster of James Bond or something.

(Daniel Craig, probably. Sean Connery or Pierce Brosnan were also acceptable. But for the love of Christ, not Lazenby.)

So Fine had been content with his idea of Susan as a cheerful, chirpy sort of woman who probably wore appliqued sweatshirts for every major holiday, had umpteen cats she'd rescued from shelters, and baked one hell of a Bundt cake. While he had only the vaguest idea of what a Bundt cake was, he thought it was likely the sort of thing best produced by amply sized, constantly smiling women.

Susan was _cute_. He called her "Coop" because that was cute too. And he'd bought her that cutesy cupcake necklace to go with the candy-cane striped slippers he'd bought her for Christmas, and the popsicle earrings he'd bought for her birthday last year—or was it two years ago? She'd always acted like she enjoyed the gifts…

_A spy ought to know when people are pretending_ , Fine reminded himself. _Your blind spot about Susan Cooper—well, it's inexplicable._

No. Not inexplicable. Just embarrassing as hell. Because Susan had turned out to be so much more than he'd ever dreamed. And what she'd felt for him was, he knew, far more than he'd ever deserved.

All Fine knew was that he kept going back to those final moments when he'd believed he and Susan were about to die together. Reyna had taunted Susan about being a fool to ever believe Fine would love her back. And he had wanted to—he'd meant to—to find a moment, one second, when he could kiss Susan farewell. She deserved that, didn't she?

But Susan also deserved a kiss that wasn't mostly about showing up Reyna Boyanov. And the chance hadn't really come. So, there it was, an awkward unfinished thing between them, and if Fine could just work with Susan in the field once more and find a way to show his respect for her as a colleague, it would all be okay—

" _Susan's not available, I'm afraid_ ," Nancy chirped. " _She's in Singapore with Rick Ford_."

Fine had roughly the same level of respect for Rick Ford as he would for a brick wall: Strong, tough as hell, unyielding, but extremely unlikely to solve even a beginner-level sudoku any time this century. "What are they working on there? I hadn't heard of any mission in Singapore."

" _Oh, it's not a mission. Their first big couples' vacation! Mind you, I'd have gone someplace closer. That transpacific flight's a bitch, isn't it? You'd be ready to smack Mahatma Gandhi before you got past Honolulu_ —"

"Did you say …couples' vacation?" Rick Ford and _Susan_? Susan and _Rick Ford_?

Nancy's voice rose in pitch. " _Oopsie! Gunman number one's back, coming in from your left_!"

Fine whirled around, catlike reflexes being all catlike, as he sighted his target and pulled the trigger. Screams echoed through the Barri Gótic as the would-be assailant dropped to the ground like so much dirty laundry.

" _Goodness, that was quick_ ," Nancy said. " _Well done, you_."

"I don't have any time to lose." Grimly Fine holstered his weapon and slipped back into the crowd. By the time he'd taken off his jacket and run his hands through his dirty blond hair to change the part, he'd transformed himself well enough to avoid detection by local police. "Tell the agency to send in someone new, someone whose cover hasn't been compromised. I've got to get to Singapore."

" _Singapore? As in, the Asian Singapore? That one_?"

"There's only one Singapore, Nancy!"

" _You never know! Do you have any idea how many San Diegos exist on this Earth_?"

"Have a ticket to Singapore waiting for me at the airport." Fine decided he probably had time to swing by the hotel and grab his things. "Heading West or East. Doesn't matter. About the same distance from here."

Nancy still sounded bewildered. " _But that hasn't got anything to do with the mission you just completed. So why are you going to Singapore_?"

Fine squared his shoulders as he strode onward, speed and sense of purpose intensifying by the moment. "Because if anyone's going to overcome cultural prejudice against women of size in order to belatedly recognize Susan's inherent value as an agent and as a woman, it is _by God_ going to be me!"


	2. Chapter 2

Fine had last been in Singapore three years ago, while hunting the would-be chemicals arms merchant who went by the name Jade Serpent. From the "Jade" part of the name, he'd expected the merchant to be female and had planned his seduction game accordingly. Jade Serpent had turned out to be very much male—but needs must when the devil drives, and Fine's sex appeal proved up to the task. He'd left the encounter with information on half a dozen would-be terrorist cells, a new scar on his knee, and far more experience in giving blowjobs than he had ever expected to acquire.

This information had been given to him by Susan, who'd whispered in his ear while his mouth was too full to reply. At the time he'd merely been amused at the thought of how furiously she must have been blushing.

Now, as Fine walked along the waterfront, surrounded by futuristic skyscrapers that put anything in London to shame, he found himself thinking more about just how detailed Susan's instructions had been. How utterly correct she'd been about every nuance of sensation and technique. Why had he never realized how _bloody amazing_ Susan Cooper had to be in the sack?

Rick Ford now knew this for himself. But Fine was confident his abilities could outshine anything that dunce had to offer in his own lovemaking. Rick Ford had once failed to find Brazil on a map. Was it remotely plausible that he could then find the clitoris? Fine doubted it.

Nancy had refused to share any personal information about Susan and Rick's getaway on the grounds that it was against CIA policy and besides Fine had a dental checkup scheduled for Wednesday, and did he really want to put it off again? He had at least been able to get her to reschedule the cleaning, but other than this, Nancy had been no help. It didn't matter, however, because Fine remembered one rather critical detail from the long-ago operation to catch Jade Serpent:

_"You should take him to the top of the Marina Bay Sands hotel!" Susan had suggested via his earpiece, on one sunny afternoon when Fine was deciding how best to romance his new target. "They've got, like, this gorgeous infinity pool up there, and a bar, and some super-swanky nightclub—"_

_"Trite," Fine had insisted. "Obvious and touristy. We need to be subtle, Susan."_

Rick Ford didn't do subtle. And now Singapore's Marina Bay Sands hotel loomed ahead.

To Fine, the place looked like some architect had taken one of the AT-ATs from "The Empire Strikes Back" and said, _What if we did this, but classier?_ The four slightly sloped towers of the hotel held aloft an enormous platform, which hosted the many attractions Susan had found so inviting. Yes, this was a destination for tourists, primarily the sort with more money than sense. But Fine had to admit, as he rode the lift up and then stepped out onto the platform—the place had glamour.

Twilight was falling. The city-state of Singapore glittered below like smuggled diamonds on black velvet. Sophisticated cocktail music set the mood, as did the few spotlights scattered around. One of them cast enough of a beam on the surface of the infinity pool that Fine was able to check his reflection. White linen shirt, draped perfectly, open one extra button at the throat: check. Olive green slacks cut like something an adventurer might wear on a long boat ride down a mysterious river: check. Anything in his teeth? No. Perfect.

"Hey there." Fine's reflection rippled as a beautiful woman swam into it, her tiny breasts barely covered by the hot pink bikini she wore. She smiled up at him in open lust. "Feel like getting in? The pool, I mean."

"Not tonight." He gave her a wink, which hopefully would assuage any hurt feelings, then began scanning the crowd. Would Rick and Susan be swimming? Having a bite to eat? Or—

"I'll have you know, I once parachuted off the top of the Empire State Building, directly onto a getaway car."

 _Or bragging loudly at the bar,_ Fine thought, before turning to check out the scene.

Rick sat at a table, finger pointing at a man who had apparently challenged him on some point. Next to Rick sat Susan, who wore a long dark blue dress of crinkly cotton and a highly embarrassed expression on her face. She covered her eyes with her hand as Rick bellowed, "All the way down! Right on top of his speeding taxi!"

"Rick—" Susan ventured. "The Empire State's not tall enough to parachute from."

Fine seized the moment. "And speeding traffic? In midtown Manhattan? I doubt a taxi could have been moving more than ten miles per hour. Good evening, Susan."

Her eyes went wide. Rick's narrowed. And Rick's hapless victim took the moment to slip away, disappearing into the crowd just as Susan said, " _Fine_? What are you doing here?"

"Reconnoiter." This wasn't exactly a lie. He was here to check up on his targets—who simply happened to be unofficial. "When I heard you were in Singapore, I knew I had to say hello. How's the trip going?"

"Great." Susan's smile was too tight. "Really, except for when Rick thought he saw a weapon in this guy's carryon but it turned out to be a shoe—"

"So he claimed." Rick folded his arms. "They've used shoes as weapons before!"

"—it's been completely great," Susan insisted, though by now Fine could tell she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "Being diverted to Guam for security purposes is all just part of the big adventure, ya know?"

"Guam." Fine pronounced the word with relish. "Scenic."

The suspicious expression on Rick's face had deepened to a scowl. "You're not just paying a social call, Fine. You've got an agenda."

Fine's planned modus operandi had not involved an altercation with a jealous Rick Ford at a nightclub, but if there were no way around it—"I suppose I have, yes."

Rick grinned in triumph. "Got in over your head, have you? Need us to pull your nuts out of the fire? Well, I'm ready. Who is it this time? Ukrainian separatists? The Yazuka?"

"Fine wouldn't need any help with the Yazuka," Susan interjected. She remembered the Kyoto mission as well as Fine did himself, and for a moment they shared a swift smile.

Encouraged, Fine held out one hand—at the very instant the band began playing a bossa nova version of "My Funny Valentine." His timing worked like that, sometimes. "Actually, my agenda tonight is to ask Susan to dance. You don't mind, do you, Rick?"

"Playing it cool for now, huh? I get it. Right, go on, have your dance. When the song's over, maybe you'll be ready to admit that even Bradley Fine sometimes needs help." Rick downed the rest of his mojito in one gulp, then motioned to the bartender for another.

Susan didn't move at first, only looked from Fine to Rick and back again. Fine gave her his most charming smile, which was pretty damned charming if he said so himself. The smile worked, too, because Susan hopped off her chair, took Fine's hand, and let him lead her to the dance floor. He put his hand on her waist, and she put hers on his shoulder, on the last note of the introduction, and they began to dance on the first word of the song.

 _Timing,_ Fine thought with satisfaction.

"Thought you believed the Marina Bay Sands was too touristy," Susan said, one eyebrow arched.

"You're not going to hold that against me, are you?"

"Of course not. But if you're not here to spy on anyone—"

"I told you. I came here to ask you to dance."

Susan's smile dimpled her cheeks beautifully. "You remembered that I liked the sound of this place? Aw, Fine. That's almost sweet."

"Almost?" He'd thought it was extremely romantic.

"Okay. It's pretty sweet of you."

She looked lovely, Fine thought. The dark blue suited her, as did the flowing lines of her dress. The simple silver jewelry she wore was understated, sophisticated—how could he ever have thought she'd want that crazy cupcake thing? He felt confident she wouldn't hold that against him either.

But if he wanted to have anything or anyone held against him, he needed to eliminate the distraction known as Rick Ford.

"So," he ventured. "Rick Ford, hmm?"

To his dismay, Susan beamed. "Yeah. We hooked up not long after the whole Reyna Boyanov thing went down—ooh, sorry. Didn't mean for that to be a euphemism. Though I guess going to bed with her wasn't exactly a chore, since she had that hot supermodel vibe going on."

"Do you want to know my honest response?"

Susan's expression was wary. "Uh, sure, I guess."

"I don't normally kiss and tell, but we've never had many secrets between us, have we?" Fine leaned closer and whispered into Susan's ear—making sure to brush his lips against her skin—"Reyna made the most appalling dolphin noises at climax."

Although Susan tried not to laugh, she sputtered, barely holding on.

Fine kept whispering. "When you made that joke about her dressing like a trainer at Sea World, I promise you, I nearly lost it."

Finally Susan broke up. Her laugh was almost a cackle—loud and ebullient, and infectious, too. People around them smiled without knowing why. Fine quickly glanced toward the bar to make sure Rick Ford wasn't watching this; he wasn't.

"I feel mean laughing about that," Susan admitted, even though she was still giggling. "But she had it coming—"

"You can say that again."

This time Susan laughed even harder, and Fine joined in. He hadn't realized it would feel so good, just keeping Susan close and making her smile. And she hadn't looked back at Rick even once. Was this the moment? Maybe so.

"I've missed you," he said. "Nearly every day."

Susan was not as bowled over by this as he would've hoped. "You mean, you missed me taking care of your apartment cleanup, and making your dinner reservations—"

"Not that. Well. Not only that." How best to put this? "I miss having someone who cared that much. Who tried to make my life better in any way she could."

She considered his words for a moment, lips quirked in a wry smile. "I was pretty good at the whole assisting thing."

"Good? You were the best."

"That's me. The best." Confidence shone from Susan, and it was amazing how much that changed a woman. Fine felt the first stirring of desire: time to take this to the next level.

"I'd like the chance to do that for you, someday. To take of you the same way." Fine didn't know exactly what Susan needed in her life, but he felt sure multiple orgasms would be a solid place to start.

Susan smile widened. "Don't be silly. You'd never remember to make the dinner reservations. Ever."

"Well, no—" How could he get her to understand, using only words, touches and gestures that were appropriate in public? "—but that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

With a glance back at Rick Ford—who was now pontificating to a wary-looking couple at the bar—Fine murmured, "Do you think he'd notice if we left?"

Susan's smile melted into confusion. "What? Rick? Um, yeah, I think he'd notice if I left."

"If _we_ left. Together." Fine stared into her eyes in a way that had made women melt on six continents so far. (Antarctica didn't provide much in the way of melting opportunities in either the literal or figurative senses.) "C'mon, Susan. Give me a chance. Or just give me a night."

"Wait." She stopped dancing so that they stood there, hands still clasped, in the middle of the floor. "You're hitting on me?"

"…it doesn't sound as suave when you put it like that."

" _Suave_? You're worried about _suaveness_ right now? Are you serious?"

Once, Fine had thought Susan Cooper the gentlest and most timid of women. He'd learned he was wrong, but he had a feeling he might not have understood just how wrong until right now. She looked like she might deck him.

"Yes, I'm serious." The tone of his own voice surprised him; he sounded almost as if he were—pleading. "I've been thinking about you. Wishing I'd handled things differently. And then I heard you were with Rick Ford, of all people, and I couldn't—"

"Of all people? You mean Rick, my boyfriend?" Susan pushed Fine back a step. Dance over. "You know, I get why you'd think I would be so grateful for your attention. Poor fat pathetic Susan, nobody wants her, nobody loves her. I'll throw her a bone."

 _More euphemisms_ , Fine thought but didn't say. The joke was unlikely to go over well.

Susan put her hands on her hips as she concluded, "Well, somebody wants me, Fine. I'm not poor pathetic Susan anymore. And I think it's pretty low of you to come here and be all sexy-hot-swanky with me when you don't even really want me. You just don't want me to be with anyone else. But I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you—"

"Wait. Are you doing the lyrics of 'I Will Survive'?"

"Maybe! So what if I am? If the disco fits, wear it." With that Susan strode off, abandoning Bradley Fine on the dance floor like the chump he now knew he was.


	3. Chapter 3

"I feel like the most wretched fool," Fine moaned later on as he lay on the broad hotel bed, linen shirt open to the waist. (He even tried to suffer sexily, because that was the kind of practice that paid off later, in action, when you didn't have time to concentrate on the aesthetics.) "Why didn’t you tell me they were in love?"

 _"Wait. Did she tell you she loved Rick Ford? My heavens, last time we spoke she only said he was a good lay."_ Nancy was not being as helpful as she meant to be. " _That escalated quickly_."

"She didn't say she was in love with him. But it was obvious." Surely only love would have made her reject his advances so bitterly…

No. Fine knew better than that. He was in the position of hoping the woman he wanted was in love with someone else, because it provided him a slightly less humiliating out. Brilliant.

" _Goodness me. Bravo for Susan, I suppose. But chin up, Fine. You'll have someone else soon_."

No doubt he would, or he could. But this didn't help the situation. "I don't want anyone else," he insisted. "Whoever she was, she wouldn't be Susan."

_"Fine—may I speak candidly?"_

"Of course."

_"Isn't there some truth to what Susan said? That you only wanted her when someone else had her?"_

"Partly. Not completely." Fine had done some soul-searching during the past couple of hours. This was new terrain for him, quite nearly unknown territory, but he'd found his way. "Susan showed me what it was like to care for someone selflessly. Without ego, without expectation. I don't know if I have it in me to care about someone like that. But with Susan—suddenly I realized I wanted to try. For her. With her."

" _And hearing about Rick and Susan_ —"

"Yes, it made me jealous. This isn't about scoring some point off Rick Ford, though." Fine ran both hands through his dirty blond hair, hopefully disheveling it in some picturesque manner. "Jealousy tells us what we don't want to lose. I realized I didn't want to lose Susan. But I suppose I already had."

" _I'm on the verge of actually feeling some sort of sympathy for you, which is rather surprising_ ," Nancy admitted. " _Be honest, though. You took Susan for granted for a very long time. Shamefully for granted. Of course you respected her abilities, but you never took her seriously as a woman, whereas Rick Ford…oh, gosh, he was actually completely dreadful to her until about seven hours before they slept together. You were rather oblivious and condescending, but sometimes he was really mean! Now I don't know at all how to feel about this_."

"Rick got a second chance," Fine said as he stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't. It's Susan's call to make, so that's the end of it."

" _Gosh. Maybe this is a learning experience, then_."

"Maybe." It occurred to Fine then that Nancy was actually supposed to be on holiday this week, but she'd picked up when he called anyway. "Hey. Sorry to take you away from your vacation."

" _Oh, pish-posh. I always have a moment for a friend_."

Friends, then. Fine smiled. He wasn't going to take anyone else on the other end of this line for granted. "I appreciate that. Let me know if I can ever return the favor."

" _Will do. Now while we're on the line, do you need anything else out there? Broken hearts require some tending. Chocolates, maybe? Oh, I know, a trip to the day spa! That always perks me right up. They've some lovely spas in Singapore."_

"I don't need a trip to the day spa." Fine would no more have shown up to a (theoretically) romantic rendezvous unshaven, un-exfoliated and un-manicured than he would have shown up at a shootout minus his gun. "It's all good, Nancy. Go enjoy your vacation. Talk to you soon." Fine shut off his earpiece, tossed it aside, and sighed. It was going to be a long, lonely night.

Maybe he should have taken Nancy up on the chocolates.

 

**

 

"Rick's proved he really cares for Susan, so I don't want to hold the things he said before against him," mused Nancy, as she settled back into the hammock looking out on crystal-blue Caribbean waters. "But then I shouldn't hold Fine's blindness against him either, should I? Of course Fine's conceited, but Rick's not exactly hurting in the ego department either. Oh, bother. Romance can be so confusing."

"For some people," 50 Cent agreed as he snuggled her close and motioned for the resort waiter to bring them more champagne. "Not for you and me, baby."

"So true, my darling Fiddy. So true."

 

**

 

Fine ate room service for dinner (appalling), watched the final three-fourths be of "Twilight" on television (pitiful), and was in bed by 10:30 p.m. (absolutely beyond all hope). As he lay there in his T-shirt and boxers, he idly wondered whether he'd be able to change his ticket at the airport tomorrow, the better to slink back home as quickly as possible. Usually he was able to flirt his way through such issues, but he didn't think he'd be at his best in the morning.

 _You had this coming_ , he reminded himself. This did not help in the slightest.

A rap at the door roused him from his reverie. Bloody room service. "They took the tray already," he called, rolling over.

After a moment, he heard the reply: "…Fine?"

"Susan?"

Fine got up, snapped on a lamp, and went to the door. Susan stood there—alone, which was something of a relief, since Fine had wondered whether she might have brought Rick Ford over to beat him up.

(Not that Rick _could_ beat Fine up so easily—Fine had some tricks of his own—but the whole situation was best avoided, especially as this was his hotel room and he would therefore be liable for any property damage.)

"Hey." Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her eyes wouldn’t meet his for long. She still wore her blue dress. Really, the color suited her beautifully. "Were you in bed already? It's only 10:30."

"Jet lag," Fine said, because it was a much more dignified answer than "sulking."

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's a bummer, right? You're all, heyyy, I'm in Asia! Time to party! But your body goes, nope, sorry pal, time to sleep for ten hours." She rattled on like this when she was nervous. Fine had actually always found it endearing. Susan paused just long enough to breathe. "Listen, if you were sleeping, I don't want to wake you—"

"I wasn't asleep. Not yet. And—please, don't go." He managed a crooked smile. "I'd hate to leave things badly between us."

Fine stepped back to let Susan into the room. Singaporean hotel rooms tended to be luxurious but miniscule, which meant that he had an enormous rumpled bed and absolutely no other furniture. Somewhat awkward, under the circumstances. But she sat on one corner, and he sat on another, which would do.

"I'm sorry about tonight," Fine said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't." Susan hesitated, clearly wanting to say something more, but it took her a while to find the words. "You were trying to make some big romantic gesture. Day late, dollar short, yadda yadda, but I get it."

"Okay." _Friends, then?_ Fine wanted to ask, but he couldn't make himself say it. How petty and small. He could accept defeat but not admit it out loud. Maybe he should work past it, as a growing experience. This growing thing took some getting used to, but Fine was determined to see it through.

Just as he'd prepared himself, though, Susan blurted out, "I just had this huge fight with Rick."

The player within Fine wanted to pounce. He kept back this impulse…barely. "Not about me, I hope." _Great, you ruined her big romantic getaway on top of everything else._

"Not about you. He still thinks you need his help on some mission. But Rick kept going on and on about how he was the best person to have on your side in a fight, and he said one time he pistol-whipped Chuck Norris."

Fine frowned. Rick Ford's ludicrous stories were legendary at the agency, but that was a reach even by Rick's standards. "But Chuck Norris is an actor."

"I know, right? Rick made it sound like it wasn't part of a mission. Like he just pistol-whipped Chuck Norris socially." Susan sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Mostly I'm like, hey, that's just Rick, don't take it seriously, but sometimes you have to wonder. Who even thinks about pistol-whipping celebrities? Besides the Kardashians. They don't count. And then Rick's whole shoe-bomber paranoia thing from a couple of days ago was seriously so annoying. We were stuck in Guam for 36 hours. Do you know how much fun you can have in Guam in 36 hours? Zero. You can have zero fun."

"It's not my Pacific island of choice," Fine admitted. Something very like hope was kindling inside him, but he was trying very hard to ignore it. He was growing. Changing. Learning. He could be here for Susan without ego, without expectation. Couldn't he?

"So I'm in the strangest mood. I don't know if I'm still dating Rick or what, and I feel weird about telling you off when all you did was exactly what I'd wanted you to do for, like, forever." Susan shrugged, and once again she was shy. "He's out telling every bartender in Singapore about the time he snorkeled across the Bering Strait, which means I can't talk things through with him. So I came here to talk things through with you."

"All right." Fine wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, post-apology. Maybe he should listen? Yes! That was probably it. He would listen, like friends should.

Susan studied him again in the dim light. Fine found himself more sharply aware of the fact that he wore only boxers and a T-shirt. "If we went back to the beginning—say, before the whole Rayna Boyanov mess—what would you change?"

"I'd tell you about my plans to go triple agent with Rayna," Fine said instantly. "Going in on my own only put people at unnecessary risk, including you. Your instincts on how to manage Rayna were dead-on. We'd have handled things together from the start."

Her face lit up. "That was the right answer."

"There was a wrong answer?" Fine had simply told the truth, which come to think of it was not always how he handled questions. But this honesty thing apparently bore dividends.

"I thought you'd give me some dumb romantic spiel. But you respect me. Like, as an agent." Susan's feet, dangling off the bed, kicked a bit—like an excited little girl. Really, she could be adorable. "That means a lot to me."

"You deserve it. Come on, Susan. You kick ass in the field, and now everyone knows it."

She shrugged and raised her eyebrows, "Yeah, I kinda do, don't I?"

"You do." Fine grinned at her.

Susan's smile faded—from confidence to uncertainty. "I just wish that you, well…that you hadn't let some stupid pissing contest with Rick make you treat me differently. It hurt, you know?"

"Wait. You still think the only reason I came onto you was to score points off Rick Ford?"

"Come on, Fine. Be honest. You had me staring at you with big stupid heart eyes for years, and you don't make a move until I start dating someone?"

"That makes me idiotic, not insincere." Fine cast about for anything he could say that would convince her of how serious he was, how much he'd wanted this to go well. "Remember how I asked you out after Rayna's arrest—"

"That would've been a pity date," Susan said.

Would it? Not really. Fine hadn't known what he felt at that moment, only that he'd hoped to stay near Susan. "You said I was furrier than you'd imagined. Too hairy."

"Just because I was _imagining_ you doesn't mean—"

"I got waxed."

Susan stared at him for a few long seconds before she repeated, "You got waxed?"

"My chest. I had my chest waxed. No more furriness."

Her marvelous laugh bubbled up again. "You _didn't_."

Fine raised an eyebrow. He wasn't trying to make a move—at least, not exactly—but how could you let an opening like that pass? So he tugged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Now he sat beside her in nothing but his underwear, bare chest exposed for her inspection.

"Oh, wow. You did." Susan touched his breastbone with one finger—hardly more than a brush—but Fine covered her hand with his, keeping it there until her palm settled over his heartbeat. Her gaze rose to meet his, and this time she didn't look away.

"What do you think?" he murmured.

"You look great. Not that you don't always look great—I just mean—that is much more the way I had, um, envisioned things. Well." Susan seemed as if she'd try to change the subject, but then she became calm. Steady. And completely fucking sexy. "You were thinking about me when you did this?"

Fine nodded. He kept his voice low and soft as he answered, "Uh-huh. Thinking about you seeing me. Touching me. And I was thinking about touching you. I wanted to feel good against your skin. Your hands—your thighs—"

"Oh. Wow." Susan shook her head as if trying to come out of a trance. "When you talk like that, do the panties usually hit the floor?"

"Usually. What about tonight?"

"I don't know yet. Tell me more about what you were thinking, when you got this done."

He wanted to tell her _exactly_ what he planned to be doing while her thighs were on either side of his newly smooth chest. In detail. But between the way she phrased it—bringing it back to the waxing—and his newfound interest in honesty, he realized his usual game wouldn't do. Instead he admitted, "I was thinking about you and me…until the first time the woman pulled away the strips, and then I was mostly thinking about not screaming, because _oh my God,_ it hurts."

She laughed again, even louder than before. Fine squeezed her hand and let it drop from his chest. Now they simply held hands across the bed, smiling crazily at each other. He didn't have to feed Susan any of his lines; they could admit the truth and see where it led them. How was that hotter than any of the games he'd played before? Fine wasn't sure—but he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"That is one of the most romantic things a guy has ever done for me," Susan finally said. "Weird. Overly optimistic. But romantic."

"I'll take weird and overly optimistic. As long as I'm not too late."

She hesitated—and while that wasn't a Yes, it was absolutely not a No. Fine's heart lifted. Other body parts seemed likely to follow.

"I have to figure out what's going on with Rick," Susan finally said. "We've had a lot of fun together. I care about him. If I get back to the hotel and he hasn't, like, beaten the bellhop to death with one of the luggage racks, he and I need to talk things through."

So, Susan was Rick's to lose. Well, Rick Ford was bound to screw up sooner or later. This encouraged Fine until he realized that Rick screwing up meant Susan getting hurt.

Could he even accept his own disappointment if it meant Susan didn't have to endure any more heartbreak? Apparently so. This growing thing was deeply strange.

"Okay," he said, trying to make himself accept that this really could be goodbye. "Rick was smart enough to pursue you when he had his shot. So he has to have something going for him."

"He does." But Susan didn't take her hand from his. "Fine?"

"Yeah?"

"I realize I'm contradicting myself here, and probably being extremely unfair to Rick and to you—but—" Susan paused, then blurted out, "Former me is still a part of me, and former me always wanted something like this to happen, like, _so much_ , and there is no way in hell I'm leaving this room without kissing you."

"Oh, thank God," Fine breathed.

He leaned toward her at the same moment she reached for him. When their lips came together, Fine didn't waste her time with a chaste peck. Instead he opened her mouth with his, framed her face with his hands, and gave into a scorching kiss that went on and on. She tasted like cinnamon liqueur and smelled like roses. Fine poured all his longing, all his hopes, and not a little bit of his erotic expertise into this one enduring kiss.

They broke apart only when they both had to gasp for air. "Whoa," Susan panted, leaning against his chest. "That was—"

"Yeah." 

"Holy moly."

She could swear so colorfully and even viciously, but when she became genuinely emotional, it was back to _holy moly_ and _whoa_. How had he not adored her from the start? Fine kissed her hair, then her forehead. "I'd like the chance to do that again sometime."

"Maybe, Fine. Maybe."

Susan smiled up at him—happy and confident, finally the one who was holding all the cards. And Fine realized he was okay with letting her deal the next hand.

If he got lucky, maybe he'd wind up with all the aces yet.

 

THE END


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